


Demons of a Sexual Nature

by zingiber_zerumbet



Category: Constantine (2005)
Genre: A good dog - Freeform, Angst with a Happier Ending, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Emotional support animal, Implied Consent, John being sad n lonely but it gets better, Mentions of mental insitutions, Monster cum, Monster sex, Other, Oviposition, Penetrative Sex, Spells and Rituals, bug sex, creature sex, cum, demon attacks, father figure Beeman, lots of smoking and cigarettes, mentions of feet n genitals in reference to sex, oblique reference to his canon suic_de, pseudo catholicism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29671197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zingiber_zerumbet/pseuds/zingiber_zerumbet
Summary: Takes place pre-canon, during Constantine's mid 20’s. He’s still grappling with his experience in hell in his late teens. He’s terrified, desperate, and has not yet found the hope that he can buy his way out of being damned.He stays vigilant with ever present teeth and breath of beasts at the back of his neck, at the borderlines of his spirit.Sometimes, though, keeping that vigilance is exhausting. And all the halfbreed demons need is the narrowest crack to find their way in…And sometimes, Constantine gets lonely, and the creatures he keeps at bay are the most intimate beings he knows.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Demon Semen

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW short story in a combo style of pseudo screen play and prose.
> 
> Pre-canon, but pretty much aligns with the eventual 2005 movie canon except that Constantine’s father has been made to be an exorcist, too. And I borrow the eclectic witchcraft use of salt as a protective device.
> 
> I know nothing of the Constantine world in the comic books etc, nor much about Catholic lore, so ride with me here and just come along with a grain of salt (like Constantine lmao). 
> 
> Starts out rough for Johnnyboy but gets sweet n comforting. The dog is very good and nothing bad happens to it u_u.
> 
> All sex in this fic is rough, but consensual...between a dude and a bunch of lust demons heh.
> 
> I will put specific CW before each chapter so you can hopefully navigate it how you desire.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Chapter 1 CW: Moray Eel-like Demon sex, Demon wrapped around and penetrating Constantine, It looks like noncon but it's consensual, Lots of being naked and covered in cum, demon attempted chokehold, bare feet mention, smoking mentions
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

_ Exterior, rainy night outside the tall stone box of the bowling alley building. We come in slowly to the series of large windows walling JOHN CONSTANTINE's apartment above the alley, each backed by wooden slat blinds.  _

_ The slats are open, but not even a cigarette glows in the room behind them. Only the moonlight brightens the space. _

_ We approach the apartment by air, coming to a window cracked open crookedly. _

_ The closer we get to the window, the most prominent a sound becomes: creak-creaking, a repetitive sound like wood on metal. Heavy, strained breathing. Drawing closer still, we hear a guttural, drawn out human groan squeezed into a whimper. _

_ Crossing through the open window, the we take in the long, high ceilinged apartment. It's a straight shot wall to wall, not more than a glorified shoebox. _

_ The walls are exposed plaster, the pipes run across them. The main furniture are a worn wooden dining table and chair set on one end of the room, and a low full bed with a faded charcoal blanket covered in crosses shoved against the wall on the other.  _

_ Between them, a massive threadbare rug with a single old wooden desk chair, all brown angles and upholstered in leather. Next to it, two bowls mounded with salt, and a round vial of holy water.  _

_ Kneeling before the keening chair is Constantine, bucking within the mount of a massive moray-eel of a demon wound around him. _

_ His narrow black tie blindfolds him tightly, pressed into the bridge of his nose and making indents in his long brown hair.  _ _ The young exorcist has his head thrown back, mouth agape with wet breath as he grimaces under the weight of a demon of lust on his back. His Adam's apple bobs in the moonlight, neck corded with the strain. _

_ The beast itself is lumpy and elongated, a mottled mahogany color with large white eyes. It’s maw flexes and snaps in the air as it writhes with its lower body around Constantine. _

_ Constantine's arms are pinned to his sides to the elbow, his black slacks unbuckled and mostly pulled off, tangled still around one calf. He’s barefoot, toes dug into the rug. His white dress shirt is neatly folded over the back of the chair.  _

_ His arms catch the moonlight between loops of the demon’s sides. John is sweat-sheened and struggling to clutch the wooden armrests with blanched knuckles. Hollow cheeked, he pulls in breath after sulphur laden breath. John looks more ghostly than the half-demon undulating around him. He looks like a man simply trying to hold on as the demon fucks him. _

_ In the near dark, we hear Constantine shudder and groan, his swollen lips parted wide as the leathery, hulking beast curls it’s long neck around his, bracing him in a clumsy chokehold. John gives a strangled yelp and scrabbles to clear his neck and the blindfold, but he cannot reach. The creature squeezes up deeper into him and stills in the trembling man, followed by a gurgling deep in it’s gut.  _

_ After a long moment, the beast rumbles and relaxes its hold. John’s narrow ass is exposed between rows of demon flesh, and in the low light we see its long, tapered purplish cock slide out slowly, taking it’s time to unravel from within John’s gut.  _

_ John groans with fervor and finally has the range of reach to rip the blindfold from his eyes. He looks up wildly and arcs his back with a gasp, squeezing down and trying to help the beast expel the final parts of the cock.  _

_ After a few moments, the entire foot and a half of it finally slides out, slippery with cum and juices in the moonlight. He can hear the demon’s strange, rattling breath intensifying. John knows what's coming and takes his chance as the demon unravels it’s hold enough to rear up for a post-coital bite of him.  _

_ Constantine summons his remaining energy to lunge for double handfuls of salt from the bowls he had left by the chair. He spins and flings it at the face of the demon, who was splitting both its jaws to strike and consume. _

_ It screeches, pale eyes smoking. But rearing to its full height, it doesn’t dispel. John, now free, long limbs flailing, scrabbles for the vial of holy water. He smashes it open on the nearest part of the beast. It shoots forward, all teeth and roar, blindly trying to strike. _

“Ohshitohshitohshit--” John scrabbles on hands and bruised knees across the floor to the bedside, tearing the Dragonsbreath weapon off the stand. Unleashing a stream of fire with one arm extended, John throws his arm up to protect his face.

The leathery creature burns away over a long minute with a skull splitting screech, leaving a thick line of black ash across the floor. 

_ The camera, on the other side of the bed, turns from the mess of soot back to Constantine. John is still kneeling, covered by the bed below but naked from the waist up. He is smeared with cum, sweat, spit, and the flying soot. His long brown hair is wild and sweat plastered. _

_ We see him close his eyes and waver before crawling face first onto the bed, ass out in the moonlight. It’s still shiny with smeared milky grey demon cum. _

_ He heaves a sigh and rolls gingerly over into his back, wincing at the squelching sensation. Barely lifting his head, he tugs a blanket over himself, kicking the bedraggled pants from his calf completely.  _

_ The camera comes around to focus on his face, moonlight casting dark soft shadows. He wipes his nose and mouth with the back of his hand and blinks with exhaustion, mouth partly open.  _

That was--cutting it close, this time. He can’t help but grin crookedly in the darkness, even with his heart hammering in his ears. Next time--the Dragon’s Breath needed to be closer, on hand. Oh  _ god _ , that was close. But how could he have known--

He would deal with the mess in the morning. He would need to ask Beeman. And cigarettes--god, what he would do for a cigarette. Beeman was arriving in seven hours.

_ John stares sleepily at the ceiling in the silence for a moment, absently mimicking the two finger press of a cigarette to his stubbled lips, before we hear him exhale a long, shaky breath. _

_ The camera zooms slowly back out, framing his body in the moonlit room--gangly and thin below the thin blanket. He shuts his eyes and passes out. _


	2. Meetin' Beeman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beeman brings some goods to John, and a little surprise.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Chapter 2 CW: smoking, oblique references to John's trip to Hell, mentions of nonsexual physical demon attacks, brief reference to a hospital and mental institution, brief flashback to the events of Chapter 1 (Demon sex, cum, wrangling)
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

_ Daylight, late morning, the next day. The camera alights on the empty street outside the apartment. It’s a sunny day in industrial LA, and Constantine is standing on the sidewalk, dressed in a new pair of disheveled belted black slacks, white dress shirt, and narrow black tie loosely knotted.  _

_ His black pants are wet at the knees—he spent the morning cleaning out himself, and then the carpet. _

_ His shoulder length hair is a passable mess, still tangled from sleep.  _

_ We view him from above and at an angle as he squints at the blue sky, grimacing at the brightness and fidgeting with his zippo lighter in his left hand.  _

_ He’s hunched a little, his posture betraying that not all is well. His cheeks are high and thin, his eyes dark and darting from the buildings to dark the street.  _

_ We hear a rattle of a shitty car coming around the corner, echoing off the high warehouse walls that line this part of town.  _

_ Constantine stumbles stiffly toward the sound, scuffing his heel on the sidewalk as the car pulls up to the curb.  _

_ BEEMAN emerges, grinning. He’s a short, balding man with faint red hair, a round face, and black glasses falling down his nose. He’s in a thin windbreaker, a rumpled white shirt. _

Constantine is scowling as he calls out to Beeman climbing out of the car. But Beeman has known him since he was a boy, a friend of his father’s--he just grins and let’s John’s mood roll off him.

“Beeman! Jezus, what took you so long?” John coughs out.

“You okay my boy?”

“Can I have the cigarettes?” John pleads in a low, hoarse voice. 

“Ah,” Beeman bumbles around to the curb side of the car, only his dad jeans and boots visible as he disappears into the backseat.

He emerges triumphantly with a corner store bag, the cartons of cigarettes poking dents in the side. 

John reaches for it, hands shaking, trying to tear one open. Beeman takes it from him, deftly opening the plastic with callused, grease dark hands.

He hands it to John, who gets to smoking one immediately as Beeman shakes his head. 

“You gotta--”

“I  _ know _ .” 

“They make these new gums, patches--hell, there’s this hypno--”

John cuts him off with a tired glance, and Beeman softens. 

“Didn’t sleep well, my boy?”

“You could say that,” John mutters. 

John nearly folds with the sudden memory of cooling body fluids running down his ass, and the low rumbling belly wrapped around him in the dark. The way it spasmed against him as it pumped it’s heavy cum as far into him as it could reach, making his stomach distend and burn. And he had invited it in.

John shakes his head sharply once, trying to focus as Beeman offers up another bag of stuff, digging around in it.

“Sleeping pills. Painkillers. Peanut Butter. That soup you like. And,” Beeman pulls out a rattling can, “knuckle bones of the Holy. Straight from the source.”

“You mean, someone robbed a grave,” John replies with a low laugh.

“Well, they have to come from somewhere. And they  _ work _ . Demons hate that shit,” Beeman offers cheerfully, giving the bones a brisk rattle before tucking them back into the bag. 

“Handful of Holy Water vials, and a few candles. For your lessons.” 

“Matches?”

“More than even you can go through in a week.”

“Thanks Beeman. Really.” John tips his chin up, and Beeman sees the dark circles under his eyes. Beeman starts to speak, then simply sighs, reaching up to pat John clumsily on the shoulder. 

“You know, maybe you could talk to someone--get out again--I could go w--” Beeman rushes to get his words out before John shakes him off. 

Surprisingly, John simply closes his eyes and wavers, allowing Beeman’s hand to stay on his shoulder. Beeman pats him again, a brisk man-to-man pat. John’s eyes snap open and he turns away to take another drag.

They both know John isn’t going out anywhere. Last few times he ventured down the street, the demons nearly tore him apart. The few folks in the corner mart watched in horror as his body was tossed back and forth, unable to see the creatures with their talons sunk muscle deep. Beeman was still helping John with the hospital bills, and the Ravenscar Institution bills after that. 

But what could John do? Even the final out was a horrific deadend, as he found a couple years ago. So he stayed home, and picked at his exorcism books trying to become stronger, and smoked thirty cigarettes a day alone. 

It wasn’t fair, being bullied by immortal creatures with knives for feet, and wings. It really wasn’t fucking fair. But what did God or the Devil care for fair?

John is startled back into the present by Beeman throwing the car door shut.

“Take care of yourself, you hear me? I gotta go make more deliveries,” Beeman announces cheerfully. “Oh, and--I’m coming back tomorrow,” he adds with false offhandedness.

“Tomorrow?” John squints against the daylight, cocking his head.

“You’ll see,” Beeman chirps. 

“Why? Beeman?”

“I’ve got someone to meet you.”

John is silent for a moment, his heart fluttering and head rushing.

“I don’t think I--”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole way. We’ll load the card with Bibles and cans of holy water. You’ll be safe. Won’t even need to talk.”

“Can I get out of this?”

Beeman just grins and pats John’s shoulder. “You’ll be glad for it. I promise you. It’ll help with the--” Beeman gestures at the rooftops and sky. “Protection.”

Constantine takes a drag on his cigarette and simply watches Beeman slam the car door a few more times, before it finally latches. Even as John spins a little internally, trying to imagine where Beeman would take him, he finds comfort in witnessing the familiar car door ritual.

He found, since Hell, that it was the only way to get through the days: ritual. As comforting and simple at times as bringing the weighted zippo to his face, inhaling the flame into another cig.

He waves back at Beeman, Beeman’s chant folk music tinny through the windows as he pulls away. John turns rigidly back into the cool, dark building, cig in one hand and bags in the other. 

Today, the ritual would involve sitting gingerly during studies, and soup.

Tonight? Another summoning. 

John shivers a little as he crosses the salted threshold of his room, trying not to worry too much about what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of soup do you think Constantine is a fan of?

**Author's Note:**

> "When the jaws open wide, and there's more jaws inside--thats A moray..."
> 
> Woohoo first fanfic chapter ever.


End file.
